The Labor of Fruits

Anytime you live someplace new, you take away little things in your daily life that indicate you have changed somehow. They aren't big changes but they are sometimes important changes.

One of the most alluring things I remember about China is the single-mindedness and care exhibited by Chinese women as they are cleaning fruit for the people important to them. Before you go and get your panties in a ruffle, please note that I'm not talking about alluring in a sexual manner. It's more of a mesmerizing action because there is such focus on the simple act of washing fruit and an implicit knowledge that this is really important.

Whether for family members, colleagues, boyfriends or just friends, I have many memories of every single fruit being individually run under the water, inspected for blemishes and then scrubbed to ensure cleanliness. It's a shame that the water was probably a greater source of contamination than anything that might have been on the fruit.

Before, I generally cleaned fruit by running a whole bowlful under the water, shaking it around and then letting them all air-dry. Most of the people around me did the same. How has China changed me? I am now very careful about how I wash my fruit.

But ... You're not Chinese

Stupid Ch!n3s3 Great F!r3w@ll.  Making me type stuff like this just so I don't get censored. *grumble*

Anyway.  In the United States, once you become a citizen of the United States, everyone considers you to be American.  This is your right no matter what color, race, religion, mentality or ethnicity you belong to.  Anyone calling a passport holder not American is occupying the fringes (or extremes) of American society.  People may complain about immigrants (legal and illegal) but citizens?  Not so much.

Why is this important?  Let's take the current situation in China with SinJyang (yes, I do know how to spell it correctly!).  The native Wegers (again...) are passport holders of the PRC but they are not treated like full citizens.  In Beijing, I met a lot of people who you could consider moderates or progressives who would say things like,"Well, you know they're not really Chinese."  I heard this enough that I think this could defensibly be called a mainstream view about Wegers in China.  What these people are really saying is, "These people are not Han Chinese."  Convenient way to confuse the concepts of nationality and ethnicity.

The US is fixated on finding ways to make sure that new citizens want to call themselves American.  In fact, many immigrants will start calling themselves American far before they get the passport because they want it so badly and they know that they will eventually be Americans.  China seems fixated on finding ways to let the Wegers know that they are not Chinese.  The problem is that by also teaching this to the general Han Chinese population, they've now convinced the Wegers that they will never be Chinese.

A country that keeps a significant population inside its borders from whom it witholds full citizenship has two options:

1. Kill them (e.g. Native Americans in the US) or
2. Lose the country/territory (e.g. Israel, various western colonies).

I'm not sure China has decided on a course of action but they'd better start planning...

Really Love Your Peaches (Wanna Shake Your ... )

Tao Zi (桃子) - peach

The peach is an amazing bundle of joy that never fails to bring a smile to a child's (or an adult's) face. Actually, that's not true. Your average westerner buying a peach for the first time in China will definitely not be smiling after that first bite. Peaches in China are have a crispy texture that would make an apple grower proud.

It took me a while, but I eventually learned to appreciate the crisp, tart flavor of chinese peaches. I also appreciated that I could eat a peach without having the juicy contents invariably dribble down my chin if I was lucky (or down my shirt if I was unlucky). I finally asked some locals about this and they said that they were aware of "American Peaches" and how juicy they were.

On woman mentioned that she had once, at great expense, bought a juicy peach for her daughter to try. While her daughter loved it, she thought it was horrible! The next time you're after peaches, please be careful about which tree you shake.

A Mother Gives Up

Question: What, exactly are these photos of?
Some people may say, "Oooh! Someone took a normal screen door and painted some pretty flowers on it." That is what it looks like but that's not what it is.
These are pictures of what happens when a mother abandons all hope regarding her son's intelligence. I am referring to a son who has walked through the screen door one too many times (the latest time while carrying a set of dishes; not all of which survived the encounter).
I can only say one thing to this mother, "I'm sorry for the screen door and for your deep disappointment."

Quality...

Marketing is an amazing (and funny) thing.  Consider the plight of The Midland Certified Reagent Company, manufacturers of quality oligonucleotides. I don't care how nerdy your clientele is, I would imagine that trying to produce an ad for these guys must be quite a challenge.  Here's the small text ad they came up with in the 03 Feburary 2006 issue of Science Magazine.

  "Quality ...

  is like buying oats.  If you want nice, clean, fresh oats, you have to pay a fair price for them.  Oats that have already been through the horse come a bit cheaper."

  I don't care what you think, it takes a creative mind to come up with this tagline and their management had to have some balls for approving it.  Think of it, in Science Magazine, they just managed to characterize their (cheaper) competitors products as sh*t ... and they got away with it. *genius*

Orchestra??

Main Entry: or·ches·tra (courtesy of  Merriam-Webster)
Pronunciation: \ˈȯr-kəs-trə, -ˌkes-\
Function: noun
3: a group of musicians including especially string players organized to perform ensemble music

I've had orchestras on my mind lately. A variety of reasons.  A few years ago, I was lucky enough to visit Taiwan along with my family for one of my dad's conferences.  On the conference program was a performance by a local high school orchestra.  I was completely unprepared for what I saw. 

It started out normally.  Big auditorium, lots of students sitting in the normal half moon arrangement.  Truthfully, I wasn't paying that much attention.  The conductor walked out and started going through the familiar setup for the performance.  As soon as the first note was sounded, I had A Shift (you know, where your perception of the world changes).  I realized that while this looked like a "normal" orchestra, I didn't recognize a single instrument the students were playing.  It was a wild and exhiliarating concert.

The definition of orchestra is vague and ambiguous (as it should be).  It had never occurred to me that you could have an orchestra without most of the traditional western instruments.  Looking back, it's an amazingly silly assumption for me to make.

One last point, I'm not sure if you could see this in China.  The only orchestras I saw there had mostly western instruments.  Taiwan seems to be carrying the torch for these "Traditional Chinese Orchestras."  It's one more piece of evidence that the historical culture of China is actually being maintained by the people in Taiwan (since they didn't go through 50 years of the  government trying to stamp out religion and cultural heritage). 

Here's a few links with some orchestras:

1. An elemetary school orchestra
2. A university competition in Taiwan
3. Lunar New Year Gala in Taiwan (2005)

Anuj Attempts a Eulogy

  At my grandfather's funeral last weekend, my mother had asked me if I could say a few words.  I agreed but I know that I'm an emotional guy so I was a bit worried about being able to get through a "few words" while maintaining any coherent speech patterns amidst the sobbing and sucking in of air.  Difficult, but doable.

  About two minutes before the ceremony, my brother pulls me aside and tells me that our mom has asked him to be the MC and that he has decided that I'll be giving the main eulogy. I gave him a murderous look (I know, odd given the circumstances) and set to work expanding my "few words."  Here's what I came up with.

  "My grandfather was an honourable man.  I know this from the stories other people told me about him and from what I remember of him.  Some have said that perhaps he was too honourable.  That at some points in his life, he was honourable to the point that other, less honourable people took advantage of him.  Be that as it may; he had a vision of who he was and how he would live his life.  He wouldn't let the dishonour of others control how he lived his life.  I believe he was in control of his life until the very end when all he'd lost control of was his death.

  I never saw him frown.  Sure, I've heard stories about him being angry or being stern, but I never saw it.  I only remember his smiles and laughs.  The closest he came to an even-set face or sadness what when he talked about the injustice of being allowed to see the death of a daughter-in-law and a grandson.

  Last of all my grandfather was really very cool, mischievous and had a sharp mind.  He wasn't above using his grandchildren to make life difficult for his own kids.  I remember coming home from University with my hair starting to grow long and sporting a new earring.  My parents were not judgemental but both he and I knew that they assumed it was a phase that I would grow out of (and maybe I would have).  When I saw him, he sat me down.  He told me that when he was my age, he had his ears pierced (both of them!) and wore these long earrings.  His sabotage was successful.  I still have my earring."

My Set Is Now Complete

Some people have a knack for using just the right phrase to make an impact.  Here's a story my brother told about my grandfather at his funeral this past weekend.  Of course, I have paraphrased his speech due to my inability to remember everything.

  "For those of you that know me, you know I'm a fairly private person.  One example of that is that I don't like to make a big deal about my birthday.  I would rather the day just passed without the big party or all the attention. While I was in college and graduate school, I had roommates who always seemed to know when my birthday was coming and threw a party.  It took me a long time to figure out how they knew since they never really knew the exact day of my birthday.

  My grandfather's name is very easy to remember, Dr. Hom Chand.  My roommates would simply wait for a large, brightly colored envelope which had a return address with the name Dr. Hom Chand.  Then they knew my birthday was near.  I've saved every birthday card he sent me and now, it seems that my set is complete.  Even though there won't be any more cards, I will always remember that he will be close to me on my birthday and he always had a way of making sure that those around me also celebrated my birthday with me."

I'm Moving In

I've just moved in to a new, permanent apartment and it has sucked down all sorts of time, heartache, sorrow and energy.  I'm living in the Post Rice Lofts. (On the left side, click on "Select Desired Community" and scroll down to Post Rice).

Here's a link to some photos on Flickr if you're in the mood to see the before and after shots.  Of course, this means before my stuff was delivered and then immediately after my stuff was delivered.  I haven't even come close to cleaning up yet!  More info on what's going on in a bit.

Photos on Flickr.

It's Good to be the Count

  Seen several times on drive from London to Stonehenge.  I don't know what "Countess Services" are but they sound a bit naughty.  And I want some.